


The Specials Of The Day

by softomi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:08:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27046237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softomi/pseuds/softomi
Summary: "I’d never want to have you to eat alone, so even if my stomach explodes, I’ll eat with you"
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 74





	The Specials Of The Day

As he hurled into the toilet, hunched over the bowl, gripping the edges for dear life; Osamu knew exactly how he could have prevented the situation. In fact, this wasn’t the first time he became friends with the toilet after a particularly gruesome lunch.

But how could he resist the way you look at him. The way your eyelashes batted softly, eyes adorned with love, lips perking as you spoke. You were even inviting him to do his favorite thing: eat.

“There’s a great restaurant down the street.”

“A new café just opened up on the other side of campus.”

“I really wanted to try the new menu, are you sure you can’t come?”

And each time you suggested something, he would foolishly agree despite fulfilling his stomach to his extent earlier. It wasn’t foolish, he tried to reason, if he was hopelessly in love with you. Osamu built a bond with you over food, or perhaps it was food that brought you two together. He had met you through working together at a restaurant, Osamu would always catch you eating some food. Your cheeks puffed, a soft grin, your hand attempting to hide your caught state. Osamu, a cook, and you, a waitress, the day a manager caught you with food in your mouth, Osamu rescued you.

“She’s taste testing.” He had said the moment the manager asked you why you were eating. He didn’t know why he was so eager to save you, perhaps it was a coworkers united thing at the moment, but the way he remembers it now; it was definitely the cute fearful look on your face when you glanced at him.

“Hey.” You stopped him on his way out of the restaurant, “Thanks.” You grin, “Seriously, I was so hungry I thought I wouldn’t be able to last the whole shift.”

Osamu nods, “No problem, wouldn’t want the best waitress to get fired over eating.”

“Best waitress?”

He blushes, “Just saying, you don’t get frustrated with us cooks, we all think your nice.”

“Ah.” An innocent smile on your lips, “I should treat you though.”

“It’s okay, no worries.” He tried to continue walking but you ended up following him in the same direction. Awkward with new people, Osamu cursed that employees had to park in the same location.

You turn to look at him periodically, he can practically feel the burn in your eyes, “There’s a really good restaurant near here, I was there with one of my friends the other day and their menu is just spectacular. Everything, cooked to perfection.”

He was hooked. What you had said about the restaurant was vague, but he was hooked on you. Osamu soon realized that your love for food extended to everything, he couldn’t figure out if you had literally the worst tastebuds in the world or was just over optimistic about everything. Every dish was perfect for you, even when he spit out the saltiest fish he’s ever had in his life, you happily noted that it was still good. He forced you to stop eating, fearful of your sodium intake.

When he finally determines he’s done throwing up, Osamu can only sit on the ground, his stomach still feeling bloated.

“Sir?” The door to the bathroom opens, “If you want to head home, I can close the restaurant at the end of the day.”

He couldn’t go home though; a new shipment of rice was coming in and Kita liked to deliver the rice personally. But that didn’t mean he had to look good for his friend, it meant that he could complain about how he wanted to never eat again despite dinner being on his mind.

“You ate twice?” Kita looks at Osamu, the male sitting on the ground, his stomach still queasy.

Osamu groans, “Well, Tsumu wanted to eat at a buffet so we did but then right after we finished eating, y/n called me saying that she really wanted to eat at the same buffet, so of course I agreed and ate again.”

“Why didn’t you just not eat a lot your second time.”

Osamu looks at the older male, “I feel bad making her eat a lot alone, and she can eat. But this isn’t even the first time, last week I had three full course meals in the span of four hours. I literally thought I was giving birth.”

“Okay, just don’t eat with her then.”

“But then, what if she never wants to eat with me again.”

Kita isn’t amused, “I think you’re over thinking.”

Osamu rests a hand onto his stomach, “I feel so nauseous.” His cell rings in his pocket, the way your name pops up onto his screen has him forgetting the nauseousness in his stomach, “Hey!” He’s a little too eager in his answer.

“Hey, I know we just ate lunch together but if you wanted, we could go out to eat for dinner. I know a great place.”

Love struck, he laughs, “Of course, I’d love to have dinner with you. Where should we meet?”

“I’ll stop by.” You say, “then we can head out together.”

Osamu notices the expression on his older friend but the lecture he’s about to receive from Kita is nothing compared to the cute way your cheeks puff with such excitement over food.

He couldn’t wait for the day to be over, as the time neared for the closing of his restaurant, he tried to ready himself for when you walked through the door. As the last of his workers left, he can already spot you skipping in from outside of the windows, casually greeting some of his workers on their way out. He even noticed the way some of his workers snickered with their looks towards him; it was no secret at Onigiri Miya that the owner had the biggest crush on you.

“Hey!” You jump in, pulling yourself into one of the stool seats.

Osamu leans over the counter, just close enough so he can get the nice scent of you. You were always sweet scented; it came as no shock since you worked at a bakery. Every time he saw you, he could tell what you were baking that day, some days cookies, other days, cakes. He wonders if you still liked to sneak food into your mouth during work.

He’d be lying if he said he was listening to what you were saying. Your pretty lips were moving but all he could see was how beautiful you were.

“Samu?”

He straightens up, hoping that the flush of his face isn’t as visible under his hat, “Sorry, long day at work.” He lies.

“Well, I got you something.” You’re rummaging into your bag, pulling out a bottle and placing it in front of him.

“Digestion medicine?” Osamu eyes the bottle.

You were sitting there, arms crossed, a light grin on your face, “I was telling Atsumu about the buffet we went to today and he told me that you two ate there earlier.” Your expression softens, “Knowing how much you ate with me, I can only assume you spent the day in agony, next time, just tell me that you already ate. I can always eat alone.”

He’s silent, but the way you look at him with such concern, he can’t argue. You grabbed your bag, standing from your seat, “Wait.” He stops you any further from moving, “What about dinner?”

You beam excited at him, “I’m going to my favorite restaurant. The owner there is really cute.”

Osamu deflates, “Oh, well, see ya I guess.”

“Okay. See you.”

Osamu watches you make sure you have everything, a silly habit he knows you have; you were always afraid of forgetting something. He feels dejected as you begin to walk away, but the way you round the counter, footsteps pitter pattering towards the cash register makes him confused.

“What are you doing?” He questions.

You lean over the register, giggling as he stares at you, “I’m starving so I came to my favorite restaurant.” The grin on your lips makes his heart stop, “Best. Onigiri. In. The. World.” You tap a finger onto your lips, “but the service is okay, I’ve been here for ten minutes and no one’s taking my order.”

Osamu makes his way to you, palms getting sweaty as he gets nearer and nearer. The owner there is really cute. Your words echo in his head and he’s starting to overthink. Did you really mean what you said, or were you merely teasing him.

“What can I get you?” He speaks in his customer service voice and it makes you press your lips into a smile, “Would you like to hear the specials?”

“Specials?” You perk up.

“Yep, there’s two specials of the day.” Osamu leans forward, “One is called the ‘I Like You Onigiri’ and the other is called the ‘I Don’t Like You, Leave Me Alone Onigiri’.”

You purse your lips, “I think I’m allergic to I Don’t Like You, Leave Me Alone Onigiri.”

It was like you were playing chicken with him, the way you leaned just a bit closer to him. He’s taking in more of your scent and it’s driving him wild, “Would you be interested in one of our new signature drinks?”

“Hm?” You tilt with a question in your expression.

“Can I Kiss You.”

“Oh.” You breathe out a smile, “I’ll take it in a large.”

Osamu places a hand on the back of your neck, pulling you into his lips, drinking you in as much as he can. Your hand tips his hat back, fingers running through his hair as the hat falls with a thud. When he lets you go, you pull away, wiping your lips. Flushed cheeks, a laugh coming from you, Osamu pushes his hair back to refix the hat onto his head.

“I’ve never actually made onigiri before.” You were staring at the ingredients on the counter.

“Well, it’s your lucky day then, I’ll give you a free lesson into the Onigiri Miya way.” Osamu fits the apron on you; you don’t notice the way it has his name written across the front. You preferred to look up at the man as he wraps the ties around your waist, pulling you into his chest as he finishes tying the strings around your back.

You think for a second that he’d stand next to you, showing you the way he formed the rice. Instead, he positions you in the center of the ingredients. Pushing his chest to your back, resting a chin on your shoulder, his hands running over yours, using your fingers as his to mold the rice into its intended form.

“Perfect.” He whispers.

Distractedly in awe of the onigiri you just made, you’re wiggling out of his grasp to take pictures of your own set of onigiri. He’s cleaning up, washing the dishes as you munch your food. You offer him a bite which he fully accepts. You miss the way as you turn your back to him, he spits out the overly salty onigiri into the sink.

“Mm.” He masks a grin onto his face, “So good.”


End file.
